


More Rock, Less Roll

by notenoughtogivebread



Category: Glee
Genre: Friendship, Hangover, M/M, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-04-11 05:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4422785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notenoughtogivebread/pseuds/notenoughtogivebread
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Klaine Advent 2014. Being friends with Elliott leads to Kurt seeing New York City in a new light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Rock, Less Roll

Once he relaxed and stopped thinking Elliott wanted to steal the band away from him, Kurt started having fun. Exploring New York City with a guy who had been riding the trains into the city since he was 14 was a blast.

Sure, it was fun doing all the starstruck tourist stuff with Rachel. And he knew there were romantic spots he wanted to experience first with Blaine (and Elliott was helping _that_ list grow). But, wow, did Elliott know a lot of cool clubs and cheap sandwich joints and vintage record stores and flea markets that were designed with the aspiring rock star in mind. Not to mention the best guy watching spots for an outdoor picnic lunch.

It was—well, it was new, having a guy friend to just hang with. It was different than with Blaine—or with Adam. He guessed this was what Blaine had with Sam: he just felt comfortable with Elliott. It helped that he was hot, and that he didn’t pull back from being his outrageous, fun, flirty self with Kurt. But his attractiveness was sort of beside the point. At the same time, Kurt knew that spending time with Elliott was changing him somewhat, stretching him in unexpected ways. He found himself doing things he would NEVER have imagined putting on any bucket list.

Like falling asleep after too many drinks fully clothed, for one. But he woke one early morning in June on the couch in Elliott’s apartment, chagrined to see that, yes, he _had_ fallen asleep with his boots on. The club the night before—or was it clubs?—yeah, there was dancing and a DJ, and—“Hey, Elliott! Elliott!”

He heard an inquisitive snuffle, followed by a moan, from the bedroom. If he leaned forward far enough (and man, was THAT a bad idea), he could just see one sock-clad foot hanging off the edge of the bed. “Did we do karaoke last night?”

The foot disappeared and soon Elliott was leaning in the doorway, his hair falling forward out of its stiff heights. “What? No, we went to Tino’s place to dance.”

“Yeah, but then we went with Charles and those guys to get sliders—some food anyway.”

“And we ended up _singing._ Yeah.” The effort of thinking looked to be too much for him. He pushed the hair out of his eyes and flumped down next to Kurt on the couch. “Damn. Looks like we had too much fun last night.”

“I don’t know about _that,_ unless there’s some guy still hiding in your room.”

Elliott butted his shoulder into Kurt, hard, then dug through his jeans pockets. “Not for lack of trying,” he said, and pulled out two napkins and a page of letterhead from some law firm, all with names and numbers scribbled on them. “And this isn’t counting the ones on my phone.”

“What can I say, you’re just a sex god. A dancing machine.” Kurt leaned forward and half-heartedly tugged at his boots.

“Yeah, sorry about that, man. We really tried to get them off last night, but, God, they’re really tight.”

Kurt gave up and leaned back, tipping his head to rest it on the couch. “Do you think we should start checking for new tattoos?”

“We weren’t _that_ drunk last night. I think I remember most of it.” But Elliott sat back too, and they both studied the ceiling for a bit blankly.

Elliott, never one to sit still, started tapping his foot and idly humming, playing with a rhythmic sound that finally firmed up. He turned to Kurt excitedly and beat out a rhythm while singing, his face eager and expectant:

“You really got me

You really got me

You really got me…”

grinning when Kurt joined in on the last. “The Brooklyn! They have a great jukebox, and I was in a Kinks kind of mood last night.”

“So not karaoke?”

“Oh, I don’t doubt we sang our asses off, but it was with the originals playing alongside. God, that’s a great place!” He stood up then. “Whoa! Now THIS is a hangover. Want to eat something? My mom swore that the only thing that really worked was the bacon and eggs cure.”

Kurt frowned. “I though the only cure for a hangover was rehydration, Advil, and sleep.”

“Well, you can get started on the drinks and Advil and I can cook, but sleep is gonna have to wait. I have that seminar class at 11 and—don’t you have work?”

They worked together so well, it was almost like a dance in the small space. Elliott drummed away on every surface, the tune stuck in his head. Kurt turned from pouring the orange juice to watch him bopping his head as he flipped eggs, and started tentatively, remembering:

“Girl, you really got me going,

You got me so I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Elliott, delighted, joined in:

“Yeah, you really got me

You got me so I can’t sleep at night…”

________________________________________________________

After they ate, Elliott rested his heavy head on the table, grinning up at Kurt. “We should go back there during the afternoon some time, play some pool. It would be fun.”

Kurt sat back in his chair, nursing his second cup of black coffee. “Sounds like your kind of adventure, playing hooky from school to hang out in the pool hall.”

“You know it. More tales of my misspent youth. But not today. I’m only halfway to human now. You?”

“Getting there.”

Elliott scrunched his nose as he lifted his arms to stretch. “Ugh. You know what, I stink. Do you want the shower first, or should I go?”

He waved him off, then set to removing those boots, massaging at his aching ankles. His feet were going to pay the price for last night’s fun, that was for sure. He pulled out his phone and sent off a text:

**Wish you were here…**

_Always. How are you?_

**Hung over. And my feet hurt. I danced in my high brown boots and then slept in them.**

_Ouch. Hope it was fun—and worth it._

**Want one of yr foot rubs**

_I do give good foot rubs._

Kurt sadly started working his fingers into the arch of his left foot, moaning at how good it felt.

_I miss your feet._

He smiled at that, at Blaine’s ease, missing him, but not with the gnawing hunger of last winter. He heard Elliott in the shower still singing the Kinks—he seemed to have moved on to _Lola_ —and couldn’t stop himself from asking.

**Blaine? Would you ask Sam to give you a foot rub?**

_Like—now? Sams not here_

**No, like ever**

_No. He’d do it, you know. Sam. But_

**Yeah. Elliott too I bet.**

_Were you out with Elliott?_

**Yeah. We met these crazy guys and ended up in some bar singing the Kinks.**

_Ooh. You could hit some pretty harmonies on Waterloo Sunset_

**It was more an Elliott kind of night. More rock, less roll**

_Are you going to be wearing a leather jacket and Beatle boots when I see you next?_

**Ha. Youll see. Hey, its my turn in shower**

_This is me rubbing yr feet. Love you_

**Love you too**

Elliott came out of the bathroom dressed, drying his spiky hair with a towel. “Oh, let me get you something to wear. My skinniest jeans would probably work for you.” He bent over his chest of drawers. “Band t-shirt?”

At Kurt’s horrified look, he stood and crossed to the closet and pulled out a well-worn dress shirt. “We’ll get you in a torn t-shirt yet, Hummel.”

“Blaine asked me if I’m going to be wearing leather when he comes up again.”

“And THAT’S more information than I need about your guys’ relationship. Go—shower. I’m gonna have another cup of your excellent coffee.”

_________________________________________________

As he stood under the shower’s spray, Kurt grinned. He had one thought in his mind: He couldn’t wait. Couldn’t wait to see his sweet loving fiancé again, couldn’t wait to have more adventures with Elliott, couldn’t wait to talk to Dani about adding some Kinks to the band’s expanding repertoire. This was a different New York life than the one he’d imagined for all those years wanting to escape Lima, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything.


End file.
